


Please Stop Lying To Me

by alphatoothless



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will, Disturbed Will, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:56:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphatoothless/pseuds/alphatoothless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hannibal's incarceration, Will reaches a point in mental instability where no one can help him. Reluctantly, Jack allows him to return to Will's once lover, in hopes of his recovery. Hannibal is pleased to see Will, hoping to repair their broken relationship under the facade of therapy sessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please Help William Graham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal, the last choice to save Will's single shred of sanity.

Whatever you’re doing with Will Graham…

Stop.

......

“You’re the what?” Will screamed. His head was spinning; his face was hot from the anger, the fear, the disappointment, everything was hurting.

“William, you need to calm down.” Hannibal tried to remain calm. His chest started to ache. Strange.

“I can’t-you-you used me. You used me to get into the FBI and-and our relationship was nothing wasn’t it?” Will hissed.

“You are being irrational right now, William.” 

“Get the fuck away from me, you son of a bitch! I fucking loved you! What the hell-I trusted you!” Will threw a punch at Hannibal when he came near, knocking Hannibal to the floor. 

Red and blue lights were flashing outside of the windows. Hannibal growled and tackled Will to the floor, shuffling to get up as Will grabbed his waist and knocked him down again. Hannibal remembered this same scene happening in kinder times. 

Jack kicked down the door, several officers flooded in, and the last thing Will could remember was waking up in the hospital with a bullet wound to his waist. 

……

“Will, you’re looking better.” 

Will blinked and looked at the man standing at the door. Jack frowned and walked to sit next to Will’s bed. 

“How are you holding up?”

“I can’t believe it.” Will pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, rubbing roughly, hiding the threatening tears.

“Nor can I.”

“How did you find out? How did I get shot?” Will watched Jack sigh and sit up straighter.

“Somehow, we had finally tracked down a DNA sample found on all of the victims. They were all leading to Hannibal. I couldn’t believe it at first, thinking it was just contamination, but your DNA would have been found there as well. Then we had an anonymous caller. He wasn’t as his home. We rushed to yours, and you were struggling. One of the rookies panicked. Luckily, you had moved in time for the bullet to only nick you. You blacked out after Hannibal was cuffed, and here you are now.” Jack watched Will swallow thickly and stare out the window.

Will was silent. His heart hurt, breathing was difficult, and he felt like crying.

......

I’m so sorry Jack.

......

Hannibal sat in his “prison”. He was brought to the insane asylum, a place for criminally insane individuals, he supposed that was okay, if he wasn’t put underground in the far back of a hallway. He felt like he was on display, and the main psychiatrist did wonders to annoy him greatly.

He breathed in, closing his eyes and reopened them when he heard a chair shuffle in front of his cell. William? No, Jack Crawford.

“Hannibal.” Jack’s voice was tight.

Hannibal stood gracefully, grabbing a chair and placing it in front of the glass. He watched Jack shift uncomfortably in front of him. 

“You tore the face off of a nurse, I’ve heard.”

“One must understand the true stupidity of medical nurses. I simply taught them the consequences of performing their job poorly.”

Jack scowled and leaned forward, intertwining his hands. He stared straight at Hannibal.

“How is Will?” Hannibal’s voice waivered slightly.

Jack’s jaw tightened. Hannibal held back a growl. Nothing? He would get nothing? Again he would be told that he couldn’t know about Will, as protocol would have it. Will could visit, but Hannibal knew his friends and work wouldn’t give him the chance even if he wanted to. Nothing hurt more than not knowing about Will.

“He’s not doing well.” Jack finally answered.

“Why are you telling me this? Isn’t this against your regulations?” Hannibal kept his face blank, ignoring the small delight inside.

“Will’s gone into a state where no one can reach him. No psychiatrist can get through to him. I’ve talked to a few officials…Will be here tomorrow morning for thirty minutes to speak to you for a therapy session. You were the only psychiatrist to get through to him. I want you to make no advancement toward him, nothing that may be regarded as intimate. This is to remain professional.” Jack glared at Hannibal as he began to smile.

“Will we be alone, or shall we have a guard?” Hannibal watched Jack inhale slowly, painfully.

“We will attempt to give privacy as best we can. However, there will be surveillance over the cameras that are already watching you, so I’ll know if you do something against my rules.” Jack narrowed his eyes.

“And if Will comes to me?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“That will be his choice. Your job is to get him back to reality. I have talked, your sentence may be reduced by two years, or you may have parole working officially for the FBI if you fix Will.” 

Jack ignored the spark in Hannibal’s eyes.


	2. Follow My Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Then I want you to follow my lead."

Please stop lying to me.

……

Will walked next to Jack. Nothing really processed. He heard something about a therapy session, but the stag was walking next to him, staring at him, breathing. It looked impatient. Will reached out to touch it, it was soft, and when he pulled away and saw blood, he shivered.

Jack walked Will to the gates, opened them and watched with worry as Will just followed his instructions. Not a single change in emotion the entire trip up. Jack needed this to work, otherwise he’d have Hannibal incarcerated permanently. 

Will saw the chair. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as the Stag walked in front of him, guiding him. It had been staying in his vision constantly since Hannibal was sent away. It stood by the chair, staring into the glass and when he blinked, it was gone. Will sat down at the chair and stared at the man sitting in front of him, on the other side of a thick glass. Hannibal.

He blinked and sighed. He should be panicking. He should be angry that he was forced to come, should be storming out and crying. Yet, he sat there, staring back at Hannibal with tired eyes. He hadn’t slept in days, maybe longer.

“William.”

Will looked at the floor and scratched his cheek, unshaved. He felt anxious; he hadn’t felt an emotion like that in a long time.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” Hannibal watched Will carefully.

“Tired.”

“Are you continuing to see the hallucinations?”

“The stag is back.”

“Tell me about it.” Hannibal watched Will squirm.

“It just stares at me. Or it tries to guide me.”

“Where does it guide you?”

“Here.”

Hannibal felt something stir in his chest, something bright in his mind. Will swallowed and stared at the ground. He scratched the back of his head.  
“Tell me, William, do you try to follow the stag?”

After a long pause, Will stared at Hannibal. He was so different, in all white. He remembered…he remembered old thoughts of marriage. He remembered…what did he remember…broken promises. Pain.

“Sometimes. At night, I wake up and find myself walking in the woods behind it. It gets upset when I stop walking and try to head home. It growls at me.” Will frowned.

Hannibal inhaled. Will smelled so delicious. He wanted to feel Will. He wanted to feel that soft flesh again. It would be a while, before he could do that. He relished the sight of Will, yet a part of him yearned to take care of him.

Will was a poor sight. Hannibal looked him over, noticing the scruff on his face, hair in need of a cut, tired eyes and exhausted expression. He was significantly skinnier; he hasn’t been eating again. Cuts on his arms, Hannibal assumed from following his hallucinations into the woods. 

“How are your dogs, Will?”

“They’re okay. They aren’t as energetic as they used to be. I don’t see them around as often.”

Hannibal internally cringed. Jack had explained that Will had gone into such an internal mental relapse that Alana had taken them to care for them until Will healed. 

“Are you aware that they are in Alana’s care?”

Will stared at him, and then placed his head in his hands. Not again. 

“They were…more hallucinations.” Will sounded choked.

“William, perhaps you need to feel a sense of normalcy.” 

Will raised his head, his brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you should try going back to the bureau. Not entirely to work, but to be back into an environment you are familiar with. Jack wouldn’t mind it, but don’t work on any cases. Perhaps you should also get your dogs back, feed them regularly, go for walks. You need to start eating again as well.” Hannibal hated how much of a psychiatrist he sounded, so cold. 

“Eating.” Will shivered.

“Will, have you tried reaching out to others?” A quick recovery, anything to avoid that subject, Hannibal felt his shoulders relax when Will shook his head.

“I tried, a few days ago. I’m trying. But-I don’t know how to do that. You were the one that always told me what to do. You always took the lead.”

Hannibal leaned back in the chair. 

“Then I want you to follow my lead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, so I wanted to thank all of you for the incredible comments and likes! I will do my best to write one to two chapters daily. Thank you so much! I'm sorry for such a short chapter, it's just helps to add to the next chapter, help everything transition a little more smoothly! Again, thank you so much for your kind comments!


	3. What's it like to be loved?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the late chapter update. I've been having to do so many things but I promise to continue to update. As for many of your comments and replies, thank you so much! So many of you have given me inspiration to keep writing and for one commenter, no Hannibal will not be taken out early. That will be described a little later. Thank you all and I swear I will try to update more as soon as I can! Thank you so much!

After a good two weeks since talking to Hannibal, Will decided to take his advice.

Will sat in bed, he stared at his dogs running around the house, sniffing and barking in happiness. Alana had smiled when Will came for them, and he nodded when she asked if he was okay.

“I’ve been better, but I’m on the right track now.” Will swallowed nervously when she put a steady hand on his shoulder.

“I’m always here for you. I know you and Hannibal were very close but I will always be here in the event you need me.”

“You mean if I ever have feelings for you again?” Will nibbled on his lower lip. He didn’t like the nervous feeling building in his stomach.

“You weren’t in a healthy relationship with him. I will always be here to help pull you back to reality.” Alana smiled softly and Will looked to the ground.

Will turned to see Winston sitting patiently, waiting for his turn to receive attention. Will smiled and leaned down, petting the tan dog and a small chuckle rose from his throat when Winston licked his face.

He felt…normal. In this moment, Will Graham was being cured.

Alana smiled and said her goodbye, reminding Will to call her whenever he could. She offered to have lunch with him, but Will gratefully declined. He insisted it was best he wouldn’t be romantically inclined for a little while. Alana smiled, nodded and left. Perhaps he should seek something romantic with her, but something about the way Hannibal always stared at him kept him anxious in looking at anyone. He could see Hannibal raise an eyebrow in the darkness of the room, judging him.

Will closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Breathe in, breathe out; focus on what needed to be done. Will made his way to his bathroom, opening the cabinet and searching, finally finding the razor and shaving cream. He needed a shave, and he needed a shower. Every stroke of the razor on his skin was slow, steady, being careful not to cut or slice. However, when a single drop of blood slid down his cheek then, his breathing hitched, he could see Hobbs standing behind him, glaring at him, his glare turning into a smile. He chuckled, grabbing Will around the throat and forcing him into the tub. Will whined and groaned, trying to punch the man, trying to wake up.

He’s dead; he’s not real, focus Will, focus.

Will opened his eyes again, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He felt his cheek, no blood. He finished quickly, cleaning the razor and dumping it in the cabinet, climbing into the shower after undressing and turned the heat up. He felt his muscles loosen with the warmth, felt his mind clear and he relaxed. 

Hannibal used to listen to music in the living room when he showered. He could hear the soft violins playing a steady rhythm, the gentle cellos and basses keeping the tempo, a piano happily playing the melody to bring it all together. He could hear the door open, could see the figure outside of the shower brushing his teeth so smoothly and calmly.

It only took a blink to make everything silent except the sound of water hitting the tile floor of the shower, the figure gone and only a blank canvas beyond the shower curtain.

Tomorrow he needed to see Hannibal again. Two weeks had been too long. He knew he was desperate for that touch again. That warmth, that smile, the knowing smile Hannibal always wore with him. Will could hear the shouting. He could hear the heartbreak. The betrayal. He could feel the fall to the ground, taking Hannibal with him. The toxic glares they shared when Hannibal was arrested. 

Will’s breathing was splintered; he gripped the wall to keep himself up. 

“I loved you.” 

Will pursed his lips and stared at the wall. Trust? How could he trust the very killer he’d been trying to catch for months? How could he trust the very lover that betrayed him in every way? Yet Will knew he would continue going back. Hannibal wasn’t getting out. Jack told him, Hannibal was never getting out.

Will felt tears slide down his cheeks.

They were warm; he wiped them off quickly, letting them disappear among the shower water. All he could feel was the loneliness that haunted him. It wasn’t until Hannibal. He felt strong; he was his own leader, his own alpha. He could take care of himself, he knew he was different and accepted the fact long before that he would never have a partner.

He never wanted to feel this angry, this desperate. He felt alone and he could feel the eyes of every dead girl and man staring at him through the shower. Some of them Hannibal’s victims, some of them Hobb’s victims, some of them new and old, all staring at his unsteady breathing and undecided heart.

And then all went silent.

He heard the impatient snort of a large animal. He watched his hand open the curtain slightly, peeked around the corner to see a dark stag staring at him. He had red eyes this time. It stared at him, scratching its hooves on the floor, motioning for Will to follow. Will shook his head, putting his face under the running water, grabbing soap and lathering it on. He wouldn’t follow. Not tonight. Tomorrow.

The stag was the messenger of death. It was the symbol of a rabbit that would bring Will to unending chaos and mental instability. Constantly leading him back to the man that would manipulate him, that knew he needed him more than anything to stay sane.

Hannibal was in his cell, Will thought, just laying there, thinking of ways to control him. He’d used him to get closer to the FBI after all. Their relationship was built on a foundation of sandy lies and soft rocks of unreliable promises. The city crumbled under the poor foundation and Hannibal intended to build on top of the broken city.

Will heard the door creak open, glanced around and saw his dogs walking in, climbing in to the shower and wagging their tails at their loved owner. Will smiled and leaned down, petting their wet fur. Other dogs stood outside of the shower, unwilling to get wet. This is my family, Will thought. 

Winston licked Will’s leg, something resembling a smile on his face. 

In that moment, Will felt loved. He didn’t feel the fear of being lied to, of being manipulated for love, he didn’t feel the need to be controlled or to control, all he felt was the loving stares of his friends, his family. 

Will soon finished, drying himself off and then proceeding to dry off the wet dogs. He brushed his teeth, filled the dogs’ food bowls and water, and walked into his bedroom glancing at the dog beds now filling a majority of his room. He felt elated, he felt strong. Climbing into bed Will watched his dogs curl up next to each other next to his bed, falling asleep instantly.

Will wondered what it was like, to just be a dog.

So simple, their only job is to be loving and loyal.

Will fell asleep to the dreams of dogs running and the memories of an old lover.


	4. In the Midst of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Because it makes him God. Would you give that up?"

Will returned home after his meeting, staring blankly at the kitchen. The meeting hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped.

Perhaps it was because Hannibal had tried so hard to push him to force his fears. His past. Will felt like he'd been trying to force something out of him...something Will had admitted to him. A darkness.

The word “eat” stuck in his head as his stomach growled, but when he opened his fridge, the sight of blood dripping from the deer meat, of victims reaching for him, of people screaming for help, he closed the fridge again. Hannibal had forced his subconscious out, and it wasn't stopping. So, serving as both a defensive mechanism and a way of calming his nightmares, he’d decided to go with something more vegetarian by pulling out a cereal box and pouring it into a bowl. His memories forced him to try to eat more vegetarian-friendly, following the path of Freddie Lounds. 

Will leaned back after eating a bowl of cereal. Snorting and stomping forced Will to look up at an agitated stag, clomping its front foot on the tile floor. Instead of following the stag, Will reached for his phone and pushed several numbers, the beeps with each button seeming to deter the stag.

“Alana, could you come over?” 

“Will, what’s wrong?” Alana sounded worried. 

“I’m fine, Alana, I think I just need someone to keep me company.” 

He hung the phone up then, putting it on the table and taking a deep breath in. He closed his eyes, pinched his temple, and leaned against the wall of the arch that led him to the kitchen. It had been a long night. 

Will couldn’t sleep for the past few nights. He thought of Abigail, of Hannibal, of blood. Will’s thoughts were pushed away then, forced out of conscious thought, when Will turned the TV on. He had to stop thinking about it. How long had he been-so out of it before these past few meetings with Hannibal? He flipped through channels, something about a presidential election, of a new sitcom, of some new murders, attempts at blocking the thoughts Hannibal purposefully brought back. Will yawned then, scratched his face-when had he last shaved?

He felt as if he’d been asleep for years. Even now, he wasn’t fully awake. It was like he was seeing everything through a thick haze, but he was more aware than he ever was for the past few months. Of course, with a broken yet permanent connection with Hannibal Lecter, he was never going to get fully better. His mind was gone, manipulated into oblivion, and the only true consciousness left was filled with images of people crying for help, of those he’d eaten unknowningly, he’d purged his stomach to get rid of the feeling of it all. Times had been better these past few weeks, Alana had been helping him, though he still tended to slip back into the darkness. 

Will stretched, walking into the shower, cleaning himself. It almost felt like he’d been cleaning himself of every dark moment he’d faced. He was washing the blood off his hands. It took weeks to wash himself completely. After he’d shaved, gotten dressed, and truly, for the first time inhaled, he rubbed his eyes again. It’s been too rough. Right now, it seemed easy. But in a few hours, things would get hard again. He wouldn’t be able to eat again, wouldn’t be able to escape his own mind. This was the cycle, for the past few weeks under Hannibal’s care. He’d definitely gotten better, more stable. But there were moments, moments where Will wasn’t sure if when he was hunting, he was hunting a deer or a…

Knocking was heard from the door, and Will snapped out of the slowly looming darkness that hid in his subconscious. He opened the door, a smile growing when Alana stood quietly, looking Will up and down with amusement.

“You look better since the last time I saw you.” 

Will chuckled.

“I’m still in the progress.” 

“I heard you went to see Hannibal again.” Alana had warning hinting in her voice.

“I did.” 

“He’s dangerous, Will. You need to see someone else, anyone else.” Alana put her hand on his arm and he sighed, forcing the flinch down.

“Thank you, Alana. But I know my own problems. And I also know what Jack is using to bait Hannibal into helping me. So nothing will really come of it.” Will felt tired, suddenly. Tired of people, of expectations. Tired of people trying to care for him, like he couldn’t care for himself. Then again, a few short weeks ago he couldn’t. 

“Even if Jack is just lying to make him help you, he’s a manipulator. Look at what he did to you, Will. He ruined you. For months before you went to see him none of us had seen you. Your dogs have had to live with me before, and you looked like you didn’t even eat. Just-come live with me. Get back on your feet, get a rhythm going, anything. Just stop going back to him, and just come with me.” Alana tried so hard. Will could see that she really thought that would be a good idea. Did she remember what she did to him? He cared for her, too, and she left, not that he didn’t understand. He could barely live with himself. Hannibal had been the first to-actually show him something more, even if what was more easily turned into the very twisted and sick love that left scars. 

“Will, pack your bags.” Alana was stern, pushing him.

Will looked behind him, the dark of the rooms, the horrors that went through here. Even as weeks went by, when night came around, Will did need someone besides his dogs to help him through the episodes. Maybe it would do him good.

“Alright.” 

Will turned then, his body seeming sluggish, almost unreal. Was he really about to live with Alana Bloom? For how long? A day? A week? A month? 

How long could she stand his nightmares? He was better during the day, but at night, he would…do things. See things. Feel things. He had the want to kill, or feel like he’d be killed. 

Darkness drew in, and Will’s breath stopped. He lifted his hands, and a muffled cry came out. His eyes opened, his breaths sharp, blood covered the floor. Will looked out the window, it was night. How long had he been out? He ran, following the blood trail, and nearly fell backward.

No, no he’d never done this before.

He was never this bad in his hallucinations.

He took the drugs.

He was careful.

He stayed away.

Alana Bloom stood in a crumpled heap on the floor, swimming in her own blood.

And Will Graham couldn’t remember a single moment.

All he could do was cry, clenching his own fists, and feel himself panic. 

And through the midst of darkness, he felt the odd sense of godly powers. The stag roared at him, in pride and in fear, and Will Graham had never felt so powerful and afraid in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> First Hannigram story, I do hope you enjoy. I don't plan on this fanfiction to be too long, but there is a chance it could be.


End file.
